"Cowboy Junkies’ hardest and darkest album to date."

Cowboy Junkies ~ Open
Zoë / Latent

The record industry is just fucking nuts. After feasting on the feat of forcing a new format upon the poor public – and feeding them absolute shite – when the fat needed to be cut, they axed some of the finest. Sure, we all snickered at the prospect of Sting being without a label, but Cowboy Junkies? What the hell was David Geffen thinking?

The Junkies have an addicted international following and consistently sold-out shows. But hey, I guess they just seemed a little dull compared to [insert manufactured teen vocal group here]. Whatever. The Junkies are back, this time on the very cool Zoë label, and in as fine a form as ever. Those wishing they would return to the stripped-down days of The Trinity Sessions will not have their wishes granted, but this album certainly sounds more organic than the super-slick Miles From Our Home.

In many respects, this is Cowboy Junkies’ hardest and darkest album to date. Guitars gently feed back and threaten to veer out of control, rhythms are often methodically chaotic, and Margo Timmins’ warmed-honey voice sometimes becomes a soothing menace. A heavy trip factor is present through Open, with songs such as the swirling "Dragging Hooks" sounding as if they were culled from the Sky Cries Mary camp. But "Bread and Wine" is standard Junkie stock, a slice of languid country dressed up for a stroll in the darkened city, while "Upon Still Waters" acts as a sonic sedative. A touch of splashy jazz informs "Dark Hole Again," while a sense of ’70s AM radio pop flows through "I’m So Open." The throwaway track of the ten is the plodding "Beneath the Gate," but it’s followed up by the gorgeous, gospel-tinged "Close My Eyes," which simultaneously warms and breaks the heart.

Neither their best nor their worst work, Open is another welcome installment of the singular and celebratory story of the Cowboy Junkies. –Scott D. Lewis

 

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